


3.18 The Red Mile

by hoppa12345



Category: The Mentalist
Genre: Character Death, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-17 22:40:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29599812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hoppa12345/pseuds/hoppa12345
Summary: I never quite believed that Jane was totally unaffected by the events that took place in the closing scene of 3.18. How could he be? Warning: mentions of suicide, rated for that. COMPLETE
Comments: 2
Kudos: 16





	1. Chapter 1

_"It's there... and then it's gone."_

_Jane let out a deep, shaky breath as he made the coin disappear one final time. He watched Steiner's eyes close._

_He was there._

_And then he was gone._

**_Mentalist_ **

Lisbon stood up, startled, as her office door was flung open so hard it rattled the windows. Her hand flew to her holster, only to see her wayward consultant stumble through.

"Jane? Are you okay?" she asked worriedly, rushing over to him as he half fell onto her couch, giggling and holding his head steady.

"Sur'am, Lis...z..zzzzz... like a snake - zzzzzz," he chuckled. Suddenly his face was deadly serious. "A beautiful snake," he assured her anxiously, eyes wide and blood-shot.

Lisbon leaned in to sniff his breath, wrinkling her nose in distaste as she caught the distinctive whiff of alcohol. "Are you... _drunk_?"

He laughed at her question, anxiety disappearing as quickly as it had come, and slung his arms around her neck, pulling her face against his, using a strength and speed he usually kept well hidden with his calm, relaxed composure. Lisbon froze as Jane pressed his forehead against hers, looking her directly in the eye. "Oh-hhhh, you wanna kiss me, Lisbon? You can if you... if you..." he paused, swallowing back a burp, and she cringed. "...if you wanna."

At that, he planted a sloppy wet kiss on her nose and giggled to himself. "Lisbon wants to kiss me. Serious ol' Lisbon. Gotta let go and have some f... fun! 'S funny," he added to no one in particular.

Heart thudding in her chest, Lisbon disentangled herself from her consultant's arms with some effort and sat down carefully on the couch beside him as he swayed precariously.

She rested a hand on his shoulder to anchor him. "You are very drunk," she told him, suppressing her own laugh as she took deep, steadying breaths to calm herself.

"Sur'am," he slurred again. "Mos' drunk I been for a good long while, don'cha worry about that!"

"It's going to hurt like a bitch tomorrow."

"Ohhh yeah..." Jane mumbled, eyelids drooping.

"Look, why don't you sleep here for a bit? I'll be here for a while anyway, so I'll be able to make sure you don't choke on your own vomit." Her tone was amused, teasing, but she couldn't help the flicker of concern that ran through her. He didn't normally drink.

"Good ol' Lisbon, slavin' away long after everyone else has gone home..." he muttered, lying down and reaching out to pat her on the head. She ducked, grinning to herself. "Thanks... for protectin' me..." he yawned, eyelids fluttering closed.

"Get some sleep," she told him, smiling despite herself.

"But I wanna..."

His protest was cut short as he began to snore softly, mouth hanging open.

"And you think _I_ drool in my sleep," she muttered affectionately, lightly brushing his blond hair back from his face. He looked so... _peaceful_. Then she caught herself, realising what she was doing, and stopped, took a deep breath, and went back to her desk. She opened a manila folder, resuming the tedious job of filling out the paperwork that towered on her desk on a good day, and seemed to consume her life on a bad one. Today was somewhere in the middle, mainly because the drunken man lying on her couch right now hadn't caused _too_ much trouble this time. Smiling, she snuck yet another warm glance at him. She would always be there to protect him when he needed her to be.


	2. Chapter 2

She was awoken in the early hours of the morning by an unfamiliar rustling sound. She groaned, opening her eyes to look at the clock on her bedside table. Then she sat up, realising that she wasn't, in fact, at home, but in her dimly lit office, at her desk.

She groaned again as she saw the lump shifting on her couch and remembered the drunk Jane that had stumbled over and onto it, hmm... she glanced at the clock on the wall - _3:09_ \- and groaned again... four hours and eight minutes ago.

"Lisbon..." she heard him mumble, distress clear in his voice. Immediately alert, she got up and went over to him.

"Jane? You awake?"

He stirred fully, opening his eyes, then moaned and squeezed them shut again. "Mm... I am now," he grumbled. "I can't work today, Lisbon. Got a splitting headache. Can't think right now."

She sat down beside him. "It's three in the morning, Jane," she whispered, placing a cool hand on the back of his neck to ease some of the pressure. He nestled into it appreciatively, turning to bury his face in the side of her leg. She could feel his eyelashes flicking against her jeans, and smiled slightly. "Besides, it serves you right for drinking so much. Maybe you'll think twice next time, eh?"

He rolled back over to face her and squinted. "I was drunk?"

"You don't remember?"

"Last thing I remember I was with Stein- oh, God." He bolted upright, then promptly fell back down. "Okay, can't do that," he gasped, bringing his hands up to grip the sides of his head. "Ow..."

Lisbon moved her hand up without thinking and ran it comfortingly through his hair, frowning. "Did Steiner go drinking with you? A case-closed celebration, maybe?"

Jane shook his head, eyes squeezed closed again and lips pressed tightly together. "He's... he's dead, Lisbon," he said hoarsely after a moment.

" _What?"_ she demanded, tearing herself away from him and standing up. He waved her off.

"Wasn't my fault. Couldn't do anything. Help me up – please."

Lisbon sighed and wordlessly sat down on the couch again to help, mind racing. He leaned heavily against her, resting his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands as he stifled another groan.

"You okay?"

"Hurts," he muttered. "Need tea."

_Jane reduced to monosyllables. That can't be a good sign_ , thought Lisbon wryly.

She came back a few minutes later, handing him his turquoise cup and saucer. "Thanks."

"What happened with Steiner?" she asked softly after a moment. Jane's breath caught in his throat, and he swallowed, hard, before letting it out shakily. Lisbon was startled to find that, upon closer inspection, his eyes weren't just bloodshot from the alcohol. They were also puffy, and he had faint tracks running down his cheeks where tears had long since dried. She felt a pang and leaned closer to him, resting her hand on his upper arm. "Jane?" she pressed gently.

He took another trembling breath. "He... he was dying. Cancer. Had a month left and knew it would be full of nothing but pain." He swallowed fiercely. "Wanted to kill himself - pills - but he knew there'd be repercussions because of the mysterious conditions. A full-on investigation because of his status. People searching his house, an autopsy – that kind of thing."

She nodded slowly, seeing where this was going. "But all that wouldn't happen if there was an officer of the law present."

"Yes." Jane looked away, taking a few long gulps of his tea, before handing it back to her and pushing himself to his feet. He moaned in pain, but stumbled towards the door. "I... I've gotta go..." he mumbled, fumbling with the doorknob.

Lisbon leaped to her feet, setting the cup down on her desk and grabbing his arm, using some of her own strength as he struggled weakly against her. "No. Jane, you're hungover and upset. I'm not letting you go anywhere, unless it's back to my apartment for a nice, hot shower and a proper bed to sleep it off in."

"W-what? I'm not upset," Jane spluttered indignantly, but still refused to meet her eyes.

Lisbon scoffed. "Oh, come on. You just witnessed a suicide. You wouldn't be human if you weren't shaken up, which _clearly you are,"_ she said firmly as he opened his mouth to interrupt. "I mean, for God's sake, Jane - could you _be_ any more obvious? You never drink, yet there you were stumbling into my office before midnight, already so drunk you could barely string a sentence together. You do the math."

He hung his head in shame, and her voice softened. "Come on, we'll stop by the diner on the way. God only knows we could both use some tea."

Without giving him time to protest, she ushered him out the door, leaving the remainder of her paperwork to deal with in the morning.


	3. Chapter 3

Lisbon tossed and turned beneath the sheets, looking once more at the clock, which now flashed 5:14. She sighed irritably. They'd finally gotten home at about 3:45 after a quick tea stop. Then it had been at least 4:10 by the time she'd forced him to shower, found a change of clothes for him, and helped him settle into bed in the guest room. She'd finally collapsed onto her bed, more exhausted than she'd felt for a while, but her thoughts were scattered and disorganised, racing with questions Jane hadn't been up to answering tonight, and to top it all off, her heart was still thudding from the physical contact. _Damn it, Teresa,_ she cursed silently. _You're acting like a teenager._

She decided to get up and take some paracetamol. Maybe that would help her sleep. Upon nearing Jane's bedroom door, she began to walk more slowly, trying to sneak past without waking him. But when she got closer, she saw that his light was on. Frowning, she opened the door slightly and looked in. He wasn't there. She went back out and down the hall to the bathroom. He was sprawled on the floor, elbows leaning against the toilet bowl and head in his hands.

"Hey," she said, keeping her voice low. She guessed he'd have a ripping headache right now.

A soft groan emanated from his throat, proving her guess right. His eyes were tightly squeezed shut, but he forced them open to look up at her. Big mistake. The world spun and twisted the wrong way up and his sides immediately began to heave as everything he'd eaten the day before splattered gracelessly into the porcelain bowl. She cringed. "You look like hell."

"You... don't look... much better... yourself," he panted, before hastily turning back to bowl. When he'd finished, he slumped exhaustedly against the wall beside the toilet. "Go back to bed, Lisbon," he said tiredly once he'd caught his breath. "I'll be fine."

She gave him a contemplative look, before turning and walking out of the bathroom. She returned a few moments later with a couple of towels and a face washer. She ran cool water over the face washer and used it to gently wipe his face, pushing his sweaty hair back from his forehead. When she was done, she placed it on the back of his neck and set one of the towels down on the floor, then helped him move off the cold tiles and onto the towel. She set the other towel beside the toilet bowl. "Thanks," he choked out.

She went out again and came back a few minutes later with an orange fizzy drink. "It's to replenish salts," she explained quietly. "It'll help the headache. Only small sips."

He nodded gratefully, trying to take it from her with shaking fingers and sighing, frustrated with himself.

In the end, she sat beside him, raising it to his lips every couple of minutes and changing over the washer when it got warm.

**_Mentalist_ **

After an hour or so, he started looking better. Not by much, but the vomiting had stopped, at least. Lisbon's heart rate hadn't slowed in that time; in fact, the close proximity had only served to make it worse. She glanced at him anxiously, and decided her questions couldn't wait any longer.

"How'd you get from the bar to the office? You were upset. You would've gone into the first bar you saw, which would've been near Steiner's house. And that's a long way from the office. You didn't drive back, did you?"

He considered her for a moment, seeming surprised at the break in the silence. Finally, he assured her, "No, I didn't drive drunk, don't worry. I... didn't go straight from Steiner's to the bar."

Confused, she asked, "Then where'd you go?" He looked away, as though embarrassed. "Jane?"

"Your office," he said quietly after a few moments.

"Oh." She looked at him sympathetically. "Sorry. I would have been at lunch with the victim's family, and then debriefing LaRoche on the case."

He nodded. "I know. It's okay. I was glad you didn't come. I sat there for an hour and a half before I realised I had no clue what to say to you." He hesitated, then admitted, "I probably would've fallen apart, and I didn't want you to have to witness that. So I left. Went to the nearest bar."

"How'd you get so drunk so fast?"

"I met a group of guys at the bar. Shouted them a couple of rounds, then they shouted me back. Kind of snowballed from there. You know how it is, after the first few time gets away from you and you lose count. Plus I was there to forget my problems, which never helps you modulate your alcohol intake. I don't remember much after that till I threw up in the toilets. Then the bouncer kicked me out and I walked back to the office. Wasn't expecting you to still be there."

Lisbon didn't know how to respond to that, so she let the silence stretch on.

After a few minutes, Jane took a deep breath. "You ever... _watched..._ as someone...?" he asked softly.

"Sure. Lots of times," she answered, just as softly.

"And how did you deal with it?"

"Well, I didn't go and get blind drunk, that's for sure," she joked. But he didn't react. He was still too caught up in his misery for their usual banter. Lisbon sighed, then said truthfully, "The first time, I took a week off. Felt numb for the first couple days, cried on my couch the next couple, then filled out paperwork and got some counselling and watched comedies. The second time, I took two days. The times after that got easier."

He nodded. "I'm sorry."

"You don't have to apologise. It's in the job description," she said soberly.

He nodded again, reaching for her hand and giving it a tight squeeze. She squeezed back.


	4. Chapter 4

She felt like she'd only just gone to sleep when her alarm went off to get up for work. She groaned as she rose out of bed. _I'm going to pay for last night_ , she thought as her head started to throb.

She came out to find Jane, unsurprised to find him resting on the couch. "Bed too comfortable for you?" she asked, smiling.

He smiled back, but it lasted only a few seconds as he took in her expression. "Lisbon, what is it?"

"I… think you should take today off," she said tentatively.

"I agree," he said immediately, surprising her.

"Okay... glad that's sorted."

She did her best to hide her surprise, and suspicion, as she started getting ready to face the day.

_**Mentalist** _

When she got home, she expected to find him resting, or reading, or leaning over the toilet. Or not there at all. But instead, when she called out a greeting, he called back, "I'm in the kitchen."

She walked in, surprise rippling through her as she saw the table spread. There was a heaping bowl of creamy pasta in the centre. "What's all this?"

"Me attempting to repay you in some small way for putting up with me last night. Take a seat."

"Jane, you didn't have to do that," she said, even as she did as she was told. "It looks delicious!"

He smiled at her. "It's the least I could do." Then his expression darkened, and he turned back to the dishes he was busy drying. His next words were so quiet she had to strain to hear them. "No one should have to deal with me when I'm like that."

She could tell he didn't want or expect a response, but she couldn't just leave him like this. She knew what it was like, after all. "Jane, everyone breaks down at some stage. You can't be strong all the time," she said gently.

"Oh, I know," he said, with scorn in his voice that was not directed at her. "My stint in a psychiatric hospital is proof of that."

"Those were exceptional circumstances. You can't write yourself off as weak because of that one meltdown."

He looked at her, a tinge of sadness in his eyes that told her he did just that. "Even so." He sat down across from her and they began to eat. "So, how was work?" he asked her. She grinned at the obvious subject change.

"Quiet. You didn't miss much. We didn't have a new case, and Petty Crimes is understaffed at the moment because of a bout of the flu, so I sent Cho there to help out. Then I sent Van Pelt and Rigsby home to do some wedding planning, and did paperwork myself."

Jane regarded her silently for a moment. "You didn't want to be around people today."

"I was tired," she said by way of explanation.

He looked at her guiltily. "Sorry."

She shook her head. "Stop apologising, it's fine." He didn't answer. She set her fork down. "Jane."

"Hmm?"

"It's. Not. Your. Fault." Jane looked at her sharply, and she knew her words had hit their mark. Then he sighed, and said quietly,

"I know it's irrational to feel responsible for Steiner. But I can't seem to help it. Every time I have a moment to think, I just..." he broke off, looking away. "I don't know."

Lisbon looked at him sympathetically. "You won't stop feeling this way-"

"Gee, thanks," he interrupted sarcastically.

"I wasn't finished!" she protested, shooting him a glare. But she couldn't bring herself to be properly annoyed at him, not right now. "I was _going_ to say, you won't stop feeling this way for a little while yet. But it _will_ get easier."

"I'm not so sure. Dealing with the death of my family hasn't gotten any easier, and it's been _years_."

"It obviously _has_ gotten easier, or you'd still be in that mental hospital," she pointed out, picking up her fork and taking another mouthful of pasta.

"It hasn't gotten any easier. You're the only reason I'm not back in there."

His voice was so quiet, she almost thought she'd imagined the words. She nearly choked on her food, and unexpected tears sprang into her eyes. She blinked furiously, willing herself not to cry. She needed to change the tone of this conversation, and quickly.

"That might be the nicest thing you've ever said to me," she teased, voice thick.

He seemed to understand, and joked back, "Well, I though you deserved one nice comment after years of being a pain in your ass."

They smiled at each other, the pain of Steiner and Jane's family and the physical distance they had to keep momentarily easing. Because what Jane had really meant, what they both knew he meant, was that as long as they had each other, everything would be okay.


End file.
